Makin' the Bedrock
by SpellboundWinter
Summary: The very mention of the fourteenth sends people into hysterics. Men go bonkers at the very murmur of the day's name, rushing from store to store to stock up on God knows what. Jewelry? Chocolates? Flowers? What could pacify someone on the most horrible of all days? ...Okay, maybe that's over exaggerating, but who really likes Valentine's Day? ChristophexRebecca.


**ChristophexRebecca**

**Because I myself HATE Valentine's day :D**

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><p>It was the most terrible of days.<p>

Women and children take shelter in bunkers as air raid sirens sound.

The very mention of the fourteenth sends people into hysterics. Men go bonkers at the very murmur of the name, rushing from store to store to stock up on God knows what. Jewelry? Chocolates? Flowers? What could pacify someone on the most horrible of all days?

Okay, maybe that's over exaggerating but who really likes Valentine's Day? It's a holiday of love. Disgusting!

That and there were those _roses_.

Sure, there were rudimentary gifts such as chocolates and stuffed animals but roses... Roses. At the college, the school would profit off the holiday.

For five bucks a rose, you got a badge that said someone liked-liked you. The prize for being someone's sweetie. When you got one, you were one of the chosen ones.

People would carry them proudly, others would stuff them into book bags and others would look at them in bewilderment as to who in the world got them one.

Rebecca Cotswolds... she hated roses.

Tammy Warner would end up swimming in the flowering shrubs, struggling to carry them all. Lizzy would get one from her 'super secret admirer' which could have been herself... or maybe the Asian kid, Kevin. But who really knows?

The point was... why didn't Rebecca receive a single rose?

But, it's not like she had a flock of people following after her. She wasn't the type to drool after. Not like Tammy by any means.

Rebecca Cotswolds was your average woman.

She was going to college to educate herself. Further her future. To further herself.

She was your average bookworm type. She paid attention in school and took notes often. The girl who could recite the periodic table backwards and forward.

... average as you can get. It was South Park after all.

But surely she had a boyfriend... well, no.

There was Kyle and Tweek. And everyone knows how the Kyle incident went. It still makes her cringe to this day. The disco ball light flickered as her brother Mark punched the red-head into gym floor.

But she learned from that. She grew...

And then there was Tweek. The poor, pathetic, hunched, coffee addict. Tweek broke up with her in the strangest ways. It wasn't Rebecca's fault at all either. After an evening of studying at the coffee shop, he kept giving her strange looks and asking bizarre questions. Then, out of the blue, he got to his feet in a rage, screaming at her because he believed she was an FBI informant. He proclaimed, 'you know too much, man!'

And to this day Tweek is still very wary of Rebecca.

This year, like last year, she would be spending Valentine's Day alone.

All alone.

Probably spending the night reading smutty romance novels and eating chocolates in her dorm room to satisfy the pang in her heart that would practically cry, 'nobody loves you, jerk'. She would lay and read up on stories where women sit on the couches, drinking wine with a man who listens and speaks about his feelings and then proceeds to fill her up all night long. Of course, Rebecca wouldn't tell anyone but those are her favorite parts.

She says that she reads it for the riveting plot.

Rebecca would read it without shame. Especially since it was just another poor excuse for a holiday.

And this year, as predicted, she had received no roses. Not even one.

It was just enough to piss her off.

Rebecca shoved open the library door in an angry huff, stomping passed the twitchy librarian that watched the girl in annoyance.

The librarian was an aged spinster. Ms. Crabtree. The 'miss' shows that she's unmarried. The bird fanatic with hair that was knotty and out of akimbo. She was often loud, breaking the silence of the library by screaming, 'sit down and shut up'.

Lizzy and Tammy often teased Rebecca that she would eventually turn into the insane woman. And it scared the girl enough to avoid Ms. Crabtree at all cost.

Miss... because she was unmarried. Never finding love. All alone on Valentine's day too.

Rebecca retreated into the far parts of the sci-fi section where no one would bother her. Maybe a wandering nerd or two but nonetheless, no one would disturb her.

And it was a nice spot. It was in the corner where two bookcases met. It made her a little claustrophobic but it was just comfy enough for her to ignore it. Rebecca plopped down on the multicolored carpet, melting into the cranny.

Well... now what?

Rebecca shifted through her bag and plucked up the smutty romance novel. The Last Seduction. Well, why not read? She cracked it open to a... certain page she enjoyed and began to read. Anyone could tell it was one of her favorites... the binding was worn and the pages were crinkled.

She assured people she read it for the riveting plot.

...One thing did stand out- apart from the sex of course, was the man. The man in the book was so tender. So loving. So sweet. And the main character had acted as if he wasn't hard to come by. That men came prancing in and out of her life...

But Rebecca didn't have that luxury.

She was all alone, reading smut in the corner of the Sci-fi section in the college library.

Rebecca was pitiful, just like Ms. Crabtree.

It dawned on her as her eyes became misty and stifled a few cries in the pages of her book.

She wanted was someone to notice her... Maybe give her a slightly wilted rose for a ridiculous price. Tell her that she mattered. That she was pretty.

All she wanted was a man to come prancing into her life, sitting on the couch with her and drinking wine and fill her-

Okay, maybe not all of that.

But, if she didn't have her nose stuck in the book quite literally, she would have seen someone round the corner. And if she did, she wouldn't have her legs sticking out in the aisle like two little trip-up sticks in the middle of a path.

The next thing she knew was that something or someone knocked into her legs and landed in front of her. She quit her sniffling and looked over to the source of the noise. To her dismay she had seen a man. And not just that. The man had landed on his face. Because of her. And like a pitiful crime scene, the books were haphazardly scattered on the floor. Some opened, some closed. Pages fluttering in the air.

Being in a cozy spot with little to no room had its flaws.

Rebecca darted up to her feet, her mouth running a mile a minute as she stood over the man. "I-I'm s-so sorry," she brushed away any remaining tears from her cheeks. "I-I didn't mean to... I was-"

"Merde!" the man pushed himself onto his knees, glaring fiercely at Rebecca. "Is zis your 'angout? Wat the fuck do you zhink you're doing zitting on the fucking floor? They 'ave fucking tables over zhere, you American zcum-"

The man stopped himself mid-sentence to grind his teeth together and raise his shaking fists as he righted himself.

Clearly, the theatricals were strong with this one. But Rebecca wasn't used to such harsh, displaced anger. Lizzy wasn't that cruel and the man was practically screaming at her. Rebecca didn't know what to think. His nostrils were flaring and his face was turning red.

So, she stared in disbelief, trembling as her eyes became blurry again.

"Well, wat do you have to zay for yourself?"

"I..." She flushed, clapping her hands wildly as she bit at her lips. "I-I'm sorry, I-I'm just- I'm just really sorry. I didn't know. K-n-o-w."

She observed the man closely, studying him. He was very... tough looking. Like a thug of some sorts. His skin was dark, like a farmers tan- no, a thug tan... mercenary tan. A tan nonetheless. And he had wrinkles. So young-looking and it seemed like he had crow's-feet but no smile lines nor dimples. Broad shoulders and the strong male physique... he was what any girl desired in a man... Except for his stellar personality.

And his eyes were the worst part. They were dark... piercing maybe.

The man bent down and gathered his books as Rebecca sniffled and sniveled. It was obviously bothering him to listen to her. Every time she would even make a noise, he would clamp his teeth together.

"Hush, come on... Shush... just zhut up already!" he shoved a finger over her lips. "You're in zhe library. Crying iz not permitted."

Rebecca's cheeks heated as she rubbed at her eyes. She mumbled under his digit. "O-okay."

The dark-haired man gave her a once over before pinching his nose with a sigh. "I'm zorry, I'm not always like zhis. I-I'm a little… irritated today. Valentine's day," he spat on the carpet in distaste, "It's zheet. Every fucking zecond of zhis day iz a constant reminder that God iz punishing me."

"I-I don't like it either." She admitted, finding something to base a conversation from. His dialect was strange and rough, she became curious. Rebecca could ask him about that. "You have a... peculiar accent. Where are you from?"

He narrowed his eyes again as if offended and his eyebrows furrowed, like two angry caterpillars. "Je suis originaire de France, poodle."

The way his words left his mouth seemed natural. No way he was faking it. Rebecca didn't know why she would just assume something like that but... But what he said at the end. Poodle. It bothered her just a little...

_Only a little_.

"What do you mean... poodle?" she snapped. "Like the dog?"

He reached out and grasped a stray curl to Rebecca's dismay, invading her personal space by three feet. "Zis. It's curly like a poodle." he said simply. "Like dog."

"My name is Rebecca. And I'm a human with two XX chromosomes!"

"Christophe. XY chromosomes."

The two XX and XY chromosome bearers stood staring at each other. Neither of them knowing what to say. Christophe's annoyance had settled while Rebecca's had just begun to bubble up after the poodle comment... but she didn't quite want to leave the man yet. At this point, she would have left whoever it was and retreated back into her dorm.

But Christophe was different.

"Did you know?" Rebecca broke through the silence awkwardly. "Valentine's Day dates back as late as the fifth century, after three martyrs of the name Valentines and they were all martyred on the fourteenth of February in different places and times. Odd, isn't it?"

Instead of being like most people and praising the girl or being generally impressed with her brains, he waved her off. "Great history lesson. Those beetches deserved it."

"Oh."

Again nothing to talk about.

He shifted the bundle of books into his other arm and she curiously read them off. She needed to break the ice somehow. "You like rocks, don't you? Most of this is Geodes and stuff."

"I am ztudying to be a Geologist."

"U-uhm, i-is it true that Geologists make the bed rock?" Rebecca squeaked.

"Bedrock... Wow, clever," he chuckled. "You must be calcium bicarbonate, because if you let me get you wet, zhen zhe reaction will be explosive."

Rebecca noticed the way he said it and the way he wiggled his two angry caterpillars suggestively... She had to smother an obnoxious laugh in her hands. Her hyena scream would had definitely set off Ms. Crabtree.

The girl plopped back in her spot, hiding a bright blush and squeal. What she didn't expect was Christophe squishing beside her. He spoke up, "I feel... like I've been a dick-"

"Do you think gracing me with more of your smartass remarks will make it better?" she questioned before smiling widely. "I don't care. C-a-r-e."

Although she attempted to scoot away. Being close to a man bothered her nose. He stunk of cigarettes and dirt. But then... he wasn't bothering her that bad. She decided against shifting away but rather _adjusted_ herself a few centimeters away from him.

Christophe hummed in muted agreement. "Zis… it kinda comfortable. I zee why you like it."

He set his book bag in front of him and began to place his books inside. And by being so close to the Frenchman, she noticed it... sticking out... Bright red with petals. And there was more than just one...

Christophe had received roses. Plenty of them too.

It meant he was spoken for. That someone admired him and surely it was well received. It made her bottle up a not-so familiar feeling. Jealousy.

Rebecca continued to glare at them, hoping that they would combust and burn away. She could never look at one ever again without getting angry.

Christophe, being perceptive, caught the girl looking down into his bag and at the sex organs of the plant. Oh my, what a pervert!

"Didn't you get any roses?"

Rebecca wanted to agree or just run away from the man. Roses just seemed like trigger word for it. The word that sparked the feeling inside her about Ms. Crab tree and loneliness and... no one finding her desirable in any way, shape or form. "No..." she confessed shamefully.

And it caused her eyes to well up with tears.

Christophe heaved a loud sigh, tugging one rose out of his bag that managed to be not crushed and completely mangled before shoving it in her hands. Rebecca gasped at the slight pain. Her eyes led down to a stray thorn that pierced her skin. But... it was okay. Great even! Yes! She had finally received a rose.

He gave her a rose and she felt like she-

The Frenchman, in a quick motion, ripped off the bud. All that was left in her clutched hands was a poor stem and a lone thorn. Her mouth gaped.

Her dreams were crushed. And it was the Coup de grace of all things that could ever happen to her. To top it off, his hand came uncomfortably close to her face. With rose bud still in hand he moved even closer. She gasped, darting out-of-the-way from him.

"Ztay ztill, fucking poodle!" he yanked her arm roughly and sent her into his side.

She yipped, trembling under his finger tips as he played with her hair. The next thing she knew he was ripping out her red barrettes, snagging a few strands of hair that made her wince. "S-stop! You're being too rough!"

"Ztop moving zo much and it wouldn't hurt."

Someone who was on the other side of the bookcase mumbled a casual, 'what the fuck?' before continuing away from the sounds of the two's struggle.

A few moments later and he removed his hands, brushing away any stray locks from her face. He admired his handy work with a grin. It wasn't much but trying to control the woman made the simple job a fiasco. "Zhere. You have your rose."

Rebecca touched her curls, feeling the part of her hair disturbed and something tucked snuggly behind her ear. Before she could pull it out, he slapped her hand away. "Don't touch it! If you knock zhat rose out-of-place, I'm not doing it again."

Rebecca beamed with a loud squeal, her rose very much visible and maybe he meant it too! "T-thank you so much, Christophe! You really shouldn't have!" she looped her arms around his neck, squeezing him roughly.

"Fine... I'll take it back."

"No!" she placed her hands out, watching the ends of his mouth curl into a smirk.

"I had too many anyway." he said rather lamely.

A loud noise emanated from her wrist. Her watch blared and she practically jumped to her feet. "M-my next class starts in a few minutes. Thank you again, Christophe!" She practically glowed, snatching the man in another tight squeeze before she and drifted off to her next class, her feet never touching the ground.

She got her rose.

It wasn't all that terrible.

But she left something behind.

Christophe thumbed the smutty book with a large grin.


End file.
